


Smell Your Skin

by sapphirescribe



Series: Mating Games [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: mating_games, M/M, POV Derek Hale, Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:25:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirescribe/pseuds/sapphirescribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles leaves Beacon Hills for college. The first time he comes back home, Derek is a little out of sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smell Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first week's entry to the Mating Games challenge (#58). This challenge is the first time I've participated in a fest like this. Thanks to the mods for being helpful and accommodating and bringing Pornathon to this fandom!
> 
> As ever, thanks always to motimetostart for holding my hand and C for the super quick beta.

"Took you long enough."

"I had to see my dad and Scott, dude."

"Still."

Derek is leaning against the doorway when Stiles gets to his loft. He's trying to look composed and casual, to not let Stiles see how anxious he is, how much he's missed him, but it's a lost cause. His jaw is clenched tight, and blunt, human nails dig into his biceps as he forces himself to not grab Stiles, hold him too tight, never let go again.

"Hi."

Stiles smiles. "Hi."

When Stiles comes close enough to reach, Derek pulls him in. Under the scents of strange new people and places, the scent of _mate_ pours into his nostrils as he sucks in deep breaths right at Stiles' neck. He feels two months' worth of increasing tension drain out of him.

"You eat?" he mumbles into Stiles' neck.

Stiles nods.

"Can you…?" He struggles with wording his request. "I just… Come here." Stiles' fingers slot with his as he leads Stiles through his loft and back to the bedroom. He can hear the change in Stiles' heart rate when he sees it.

Every blanket Derek owns is piled on top of his bed. A pair of black running shorts peeks out from amidst the pile and the sleeve of a faded red hoodie is dangling to the floor.

Stiles huffs out a laugh. Derek feels the blush rising on his face, but he can't truly be embarrassed about this. He should have thought of it before Stiles left for college and refuses to miss a second opportunity. He rubs his hand over the base of his neck and tries to put his need into words.

"Nothing smells like you anymore. Nothing smells like us…"

"So you thought the best way to remedy that was to sleep on everything you own and, hey, is that my lacrosse jersey?"

"You left it here. I…"

Derek could explain more, probably should, but Stiles is _here, now, finally,_ and his scent is overpowering rational thought in Derek's brain.

He pulls Stiles against him in the next moment, pressing their lips together, opening his mouth to taste his mate, and backing Stiles to the bed as he does it. They pull off each other's clothing in swift moves not easily forgotten. Stiles wraps his arms around Derek's shoulders, legs around his waist, when they make it onto the heap of blankets and clothing on the bed.

Derek runs his hands up and down Stiles' body, touching every bit of skin he's missed. Their mouths only part for breathing and tasting sweating skin.

He needs to be inside Stiles. Nothing else matters. He lubes up his fingers and presses in, stretching. Stiles squirms, threads his fingers through Derek's hair, pulls him in tighter. When he finally, finally, gets his cock in, he stops. Holds.

It's been eight weeks since Derek's had this, had Stiles pressed against him and around him. He knows Stiles needed to go to college, but he misses this so much. Misses the warmth of Stiles' body against his own, Stiles' scent and presence over everything he owns, the constant motion in his otherwise still world.

"Oh my god, you have to move," Stiles begs. "Please move."

Derek moves in minute thrusts. He can't bear any distance between them right now, so he presses his hips in tighter against Stiles' ass and buries his face in Stiles' neck. His wolf revels in the smell and feel of Stiles everywhere.

"Gonna fill you up. Make you smell like me." Stiles whimpers. "They have to know you're mine."

"Yes," Stiles groans. "Do it."

Derek rocks his hips a few times more, stamina shot by the overwhelming presence of _Stiles,_ and his orgasm rips through him like a tidal wave. He comes with a hoarse shout, pouring himself into Stiles' body.

Somehow Derek manages to roll them over without pulling out. He's trembling, shocky, and he can't take his eyes off Stiles. Stiles, who hasn't come yet, didn't get the chance to. Stiles, who is, _fuck,_ jacking himself off.

Stiles folds himself over to whisper in Derek's ear, "I'm gonna come on you. Make _you_ smell like _me_. Let them know _you're mine._ " Seconds later, he comes across Derek's chest before collapsing on top of him.

Later, Stiles says, "I know what you mean about the smell thing," and fishes a plain black T-shirt out of his duffle. "I was kinda hoping that while we weren't doing that, you could wear this."


End file.
